


Rust

by Nakimochiku



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 07:52:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1850230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nakimochiku/pseuds/Nakimochiku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Levi remembers his childhood, steeped in blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rust

Levi distinctly remembers this: 

Rain, gravel, the over sweet and dry taste of a rotten apple. His shirt sticks to his skin, his nails are caked in mud from scrabbling for life. 

A pair of shoes in his narrow field of vision. Long, long legs, raised eyebrows and a curving knife dripping rubies. He leaps away like a cat kicked one too many times, and a voice, rusted from one too many cigarettes, laughs. "Scrappy thing, for sure."

He hauls him up by the scruff of his neck, and Levi must barely have been four, because it was so easy for him, and carts him off just like that.

Levi distinctly remembers this:

Grip slipping on the handle of a knife, shaking so bad he thinks his bones will rattle away, watching a woman he'd lured cry and scream and struggle. And then he has her, big arm wrapped around her shoulder, his blade to her throat, sinking in, sliding across; splattering the floor with rubies, so many liquid rubies.

He must be six, because he's only just starting to understand what it is he's training him for, why he needed a scrappy gutter rat with a half cute face. 

Her body drops, limp and twitching, into the growing puddle, and he wanders over, pats Levi on the head. "Not bad." He says. And Levi forgets then about the warm liquid rubies to glow with the praise, to treasure it.

Levi less distinctly remembers this:

A question. "Why do we kill these people?"

And answer. "Because they’re pigs."

A rough hand on his forehead as he coughs and coughs and struggles to breathe, shaking and weak with fever.

A lingering scent of cigarettes and rust.

A shattered tea cup and burning hot furious tears, turned to sudden, ill expressed joy when present with another, only slightly uglier one.

A big hand in his hair. A voice. “Not bad.”

Levi distinctly remembers this:

A hot spray of blood on his face, followed by a gush on his fingers. A woman's mouth, open so wide she looks like she's going to swallow him. A hum of disapproval. "Lookit the mess you made. Clean it up." He never raises his voice. 

"It was a good kill." Levi says defensively, puffing out his little chest, and he must be ten, because he's so full of himself, so sure.

He just snorts down at him, blows a puff of cigarette smoke into his face. "The day you slit a bitch's throat without getting a drop of blood on you is the day I’ll tell you it was a good kill."

Levi vows to himself to practice. He remembers it. His body remembers it too. He still kills with perfected grace.

Levi distinctly remembers this:

Leaning against a wall, shirtless, pants provocatively low, a cigarette between his lips. He knows he's watching, but he keeps his expression impassive, and sucks in a lungful of smoke, breathes out through his nose. The victim approaches, and Levi tosses his hair out of his eyes and beckons. He must be thirteen, caught on the wrong side of puberty, coltish and pretty; the perfect bait.

Later, he'll be caught under a heaving body, scrapping at the mattress to get away, heavy hot innards smeared all over him, something like tears in his eyes, kicking off the death grip of his latest victim and feeling filthier than he ever has in his life up till now.

He looks down at him, sneers at the mess, says "clean this up," and turns away, leaving just the click click of his shoes to comfort him.

Levi distinctly remembers this:

Scrubbing and scrubbing, skin red and raw, aching and trembling and still so weak. His lip trembles no matter how hard he clenches his jaw. He’s filthy. He’s emptied and refilled the tub three times.

Hands around his throat, his hips. Hands turning to claws. Claws spilling rubies, metallic and kind, across the sheets and his fingers. He shivers in the hot water. He must be sixteen, because he still has nightmares about hands and claws. 

A thud on the door, a rusty voice. "Hurry it up, brat." He draws himself out of the tub and makes himself steel. Has no choice because he’ll find no comfort here. 

Levi distinctly remembers this: 

Broken glass crunching, legs cramping, holding as still and as silent as a stone. He’s a hunter, and he's spotted his prey. He moves slow, so carefully, blending with shadows. The grip on his knife isn't clammy, isn't tight. He breathes deep through his nose. He must be eighteen, he because he feels power and patience leased in all his muscles.

When his prey appears around the corner, he leaps like a wolf for the jugular, as silent as an owl on the hunt. His knife bites into flesh, a spray of hot blood on stone. He wipes his blood on his prey’s clothes and trots away to where he's waiting and watching, and looks up expectantly.

A big hand lands in his hair and ruffles. "Good kill." And Levi knows that shouldn't make him as pleased as it does.

Levi distinctly remembers this:

Rain, rough wool growing heavy with water, the thick taste of bile on his tongue. "Levi!" A lion’s roar behind him over the thunder.

He can't anymore. He’s twenty, and hungry for something he can find no matter how many throats he slits. Hungry for something people say birds have, but not them, not humans, and he’s still young enough for words like freedom to taste temptingly sweet.

"Levi!" Again behind him but he's gone. He’s gone and he'll never see him again, he vows. He’ll never go back no matter how hungry he gets. "Levi!"

What Levi distinctly remembers when he’s face to face with the man that raised him is this: a whole life time steeped in blood so that he stinks of rust.

**Author's Note:**

> for vita and mando. apparently his name is actually Kenny? but like, Kenny is literally the least threatening name, so i just decided not to use his name at all.


End file.
